I Lhathron
by earth-guide
Summary: Humans have seriously dropped the ball. Middle-earth is in a state of chaos. The other races have vanished and the elves are sequestered in two last remaning strongholds. Now a new threat is growing in Middle-earth. Legomance among and ensemble cast. R
1. Prologue

Tittle: I Lhathron

Author: the earth guide

Rating: PG-13ish heading to R

Disclaimer:I don't own anything written by Tolkien

(blah blah blah). I write strictly for my own

enjoyment (blah blah blah). I do claim any

original characters created by me (blah!).

Warnings: Het sex in future chapters, I will post

a warning for those

Pairing(s): Legolas/OHFC , OHFC/OMC

Timeline: AU, approx.. 2500 Fourth Age

Beta: This portion was originally betaed by

Cristine. I have lost my beta

Summary: Humans have seriously dropped the ball. Middle-earth is in a state of chaos. The other races have vanished and the elves that didn't leave for the West are in denial and have sequestered themselves (not that it matters cause everyone thinks they are a myth anyway) in the forests. Now a new threat is growing in Middle-earth.

Author's Note: I am sooooooo sorry to the two or three people who actually read my story! I had a ton of life changes that simply did not leave time to work on this story. Plus I had terrible writer's block that I am still working through. In fact, if anyone want to beta and chat about this story with me – I am totally open to suggestions. At any rate, I am reposting and changing some of the structure and story line.

_Middle-earth_

_Hassana _

_Ilorin sat crossed legged on a low wooden stool. The intricately carved piece was said to be from the last ancient tree that grew on the plains of Hassana. It was sacred, like everything else in the room. She stared downward at the green glazed tiles of the floor. Like the stool, the surface of the floor was adorned with the seven sacred symbols of Hassana, swirled patterns. These symbols were also etched into the smooth adobe walls and the stained glass of the high, arched ceiling._

_Ilorin forced her attention back to the voices of the council sitting in judgment before her. Her time as a novice had come to a close. This day the most senior councilors the wisest people in the Temple, were to decide her fate; Acceptance or Release. She shifted slightly on the hard seat of the stool._

_Finally, Ilorin heard the sonorous voice of the seventh and final councilor, Eshira. "Ilorin, I must admit, I had my doubts when you first petitioned for entrance to the novitiate. A child from a family of Mages as powerful as yours has never joined the Temple Amani. Frankly, I did not believe you could overcome the arrogance of your class. We have all been surprised and proud of the changes that have taken place in you, Ilorin. You have become a person of merit who truly understands the spirit of our teachings."_

_Ilorin relaxed imperceptibly. Thus far the council had had nothing but positive things to say about her._

_"However," continued councilor Eshira, "our teachings, our way of life, concern balancing the forces and energies of nature through our individual beings. You have worked hard toward cultivating that ability with some small degree of success. But, Ilorin, when the elders read your aura they divined a fundamental imbalance in your spirit-nature. That imbalance will keep you from progressing much further. We do not understand how or why this is so, nor can we correct it. Perhaps something magical is the cause given your parentage but..." she paused and a tone of sorrow entered her voice, "it pains me to say this but, your path does not lie with us."_

_Ilorin looked into the lean brown face of councilor Eshira, whose wide black eyes were glistening with unshed tears. A cold wave washed over Ilorin and at that moment life lost its sense of reality. Her shocked gaze scanned the other six members of the council. Their faces held the same sorrow as councilor Eshira's. Absurdly, Ilorin found herself thinking of how soft their deep purple robes looked in the glowing mid-afternoon sunlight that streamed through the large windows._

_"Ilorin Sahafatra Bahati, please stand," said the council in unison. Ilorin unfolded her legs, wobbling slightly as she placed her bare feet on the cool tiles. "It is the will of this council that you be released from all obligation of the Temple Amani. May the will of the Gods and the power of the Universe guide thee well in your journey though life."_

_With that final pronouncement, the seven members of the council stood and joined hands. One note, strong, clear and full of profound melancholy rang from councilor Eshira. Slowly, the voices of each council member joined, one by one, intertwining to produce a poignant melody, which made tears slide down Ilorin's cheeks._

_She turned from the council and slowly, as if in a dream, walked through the arched doorway of the council room. Ilorin knew what would happen next, the thing that every novice feared. A pack would be waiting for her outside the dorm where her room had been. In it would be the small number of personal items each novice was encouraged to keep, a pouch of gold coins and camping supplies. Other than that, she would pass through the temple gates with nothing but the clothes she wore. Along the way, each person who lived within the temple walls, from the youngest child to the oldest monk, would sing the Song of Release until the gates closed behind her._

_Ilorin sat near the fire of her small, lonely camp watching the flames dancing against the night-darkened plains of Hassana. The song of the Temple residents still rang in her ears. She absent-mindedly fingered the crystal on the bracelet of her right arm. The shock and numbness she felt immediately after the council was wearing away, its place being overtaken by fear and despair. She had nowhere left to go. The Mage class felt it a mark of shame for one of their own to join the Temple. Ilorin had been banished from her family's home for her petition to become a novice._

_She sighed and wondered if she had gambled foolishly. Ilorin poked at the fire with a stick. No, she decided, she had made the right choice. Even if it had meant the loss of her family and class. Six years ago when another council -- a Mage council -- had declared her magically blind, her only options had been a loveless marriage or solitary exile on a distant family estate. Neither of those option were worth the experiences she'd had within the Temple walls. Even now, with no home, no purpose and no immediate prospects, she still had her freedom._

_Ilorin looked up at the expansive sky overhead with its twinkling stars and felt an inner core of resolve harden. She would survive this. She would find a place in this life and it would be of her own choosing. Just then, from the corner of her eye she saw a small pinpoint of light suspended in the air. As it grew and expanded, Ilorin gasped in astonishment at what unfolded before her. In the span of time between two heartbeats she made a decision. Grabbing her pack Ilorin stepped toward the light._

-Thanks for reading this far

the earth guide


	2. The Forest

CHAPTER ONE

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The elleth, Aduial strode purposefully through the forest of Eryn Lasgalen. The late morning sunlight streamed through a few stray breaks in the canopy, dimly illuminating the forest floor. She nimbly stepped over fallen tree branches and low growing plants as she took many unexpected turns. She was not following one of the many well-worn footpaths that wound through the forest.

In her right hand, Aduial clutched the pendant and necklace that normally hung round her neck. It was a distinctly un-elvish piece of jewelry. A pair of silver hands held two tear drop shaped halves, one black with a small white circle and the other white with a small black circle, which clung to each other forming a perfect circle no wider than an inch across. She had worn that necklace for over a thousand years.

The necklace had awakened. Nestled in the palm of her left hand, it glowed with a light fueled by magic. Magic that guided her feet through the forest and up a steep ridge. It was difficult terrain, even for an elf. Many of the trees on the side of the ridge had fallen or grown contorted with exposed roots and twisting trunks barely clinging to balance.

Excitement lent speed to Aduial's already swift pace as she climbed higher and higher. The necklace glowed brighter and her hand began to tingle. She was almost there. Aduial did not know what would greet her when she reached the top of the ridge, but whatever she found was inextricably linked to the secret trust of which she was guardian.

At the top of the ridge grew a thick grove of massive oak trees. Aduial silently stepped toward an opening in the tree. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as curiosity and anticipation overtook her mind. Cautiously she placed one hand on the nearest trunk and peered into the grove. Behind the wall of trees was a small grass covered clearing. At the far edge sat Legolas Greenleaf.

Aduial frowned in confusion. Of all the things she thought might greet her, he was not among them. Legolas had returned to Eryn Lasgalen from the Undying Lands months ago. Could he be the reason her necklace had awakened? She examined him more closely, seeking some indication that he was responsible for the changes in her necklace. She noticed only that he seemed particularly pensive as he sat on a large boulder near a small stream.

Legolas was indeed deep in thought. So deep, in fact, that he had not sensed Aduial's presence. He was seeking solace in the life of the forest; endeavoring to ease the restlessness that had taken up residence in his soul. As a young elf, the clearing had been a refuge for him when the weight of his title had become nearly unbearable. He had hoped that returning to the forest of his birth and going back to the clearing might somehow aid his search for wholeness and peace.

_Legolas, you tread dangerously close to aimlessness._ He grimaced wondering how such a thoroughly mortal concept could work its way into his mind. After all, what use was "aim" to an immortal being? Focusing on where you are going in a lifetime that is forever could only lead to endless frustration. Briefly he wondered if he should have heeded the warnings about keeping company with mortals. He shook his head slightly, as if to throw off that line of reasoning. The friendships he'd had with mortals were well worth the disquiet he felt now.

Shifting focus, he tried to allow the life and spirit of the forest to steady his feä, but it was not to be. Beneath the sounds of the forest, beyond the borders of Eryn Lasgalen there was a growing dissonance in the fabric of Middle-earth. It could be heard like an ever present knocking at the door. Even, however faintly, to the shores of the Undying Lands.

"Legolas?" Aduial called softly to him.

Startled, Legolas turned swiftly to look in the direction of the voice, annoyed that he had been caught unaware. His irritation deepened slightly when he recognized the deep blue eyes and unusual chestnut hair of Aduial. He had known her for most of his long life and though they loved each other like siblings, they usually found themselves bickering over one inconsequential thing or another.

"Aduial," he said unenthusiastically and with a touch of sarcasm, "what are you doing here?" He was unaccustomed to seeing other elves in that quarter of the forest and Aduial was very nearly the last elf he wanted to see at the moment. He simply did not feel up to verbal sparring today.

Aduial strode toward him with a determined set to her smooth elven features, ignoring his mildly sarcastic question. She needed to see what the magic of her necklace would do in close proximity to him. She simply could not believe he was the sole purpose for its awakening. She stopped before him and regarded him with total seriousness, looking deeply into his cerulean eyes.

He stared back perplexed at the manner in which she approached him.

"Legolas," she began, "there is a most important matter I-" Her words trailed away when his eyes left her face and focused on something in the distance behind her. Aduial slowly pivoted around, curious to see what had grabbed Legolas' attention. Suspended in the air a short distance away glittered a small pinpoint of intensely bright light.

Eyes narrowing, Legolas cautiously circled around light searching for its origin.

Aduial followed suit, feeling anticipation and excitement rising within her.

With a flash, the light began rapidly expanding and a shadow roughly the size of a person appeared within it.

Legolas swiftly grabbed his bow and notched an arrow.

The light faded slowly and the two elves found themselves standing behind a human.

Legolas readied the arrow on his bow and opened his mouth, preparing to speak, when Aduial gently but firmly placed her hand on his bow arm and pushed downward.

He jerked his head to the left, looking at her with irritated curiosity.

Aduial was staring intently at the human before them. Within seconds, her sharp eyes told her they were standing behind a human female.

The newcomer did not seem aware of their presence.

Ilorin blinked rapidly, attempting to focus her eyes as the bright light that had engulfed her faded. _I did it. I can't believe I did but I did._ A small spark of fear began to form in her chest. She was well aware that she had traveled through a magical passage, a rare occurrence among her people. She cautiously observed her new surroundings. That spark of fear grew to a flame and was joined by anxiety. She was in utterly alien terrain. Her feet stood upon the softest, greenest grass she had ever seen, and all around her were trees. Trees unlike any she had ever thought possible. They towered overhead obscuring the sky. Hassana was a land of nearly treeless plains where the sky could be viewed open and wide to the horizon. She was obviously no longer in her homeland.

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thanks for reading this far

the earth guide


	3. Face to Face

CHAPTER TWO

Across the sea, from distant shore,

I Lhathron, the one

She will come

- Fragment from I Lhathron

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Aduial had realized immediate what the light in the little clearing was. Someone had cast a passage and the human female had traveled through it. It took great skill and power to wield the magic required for such a feat; skill which, to the best of her knowledge, no longer resided in Middle-earth. Her mind immediately began considering possibilities as she observed the woman.

"Put away your bow," Aduial said in a barely audible whisper. She did not wish Legolas to frighten the woman.

"Under the circumstances I do not think that is advisable," whispered Legolas in reply.

"She has no weapons."

"None that we can see." He noticed that Aduial referred to the human as a she. Looking more closely Legolas noted the curving hips of a decidedly female form beneath the loose clothing she wore.

Aduial eyes met his eyes directly. "Trust me," she said, loosening her grip on his bow arm.

Legolas gave her a hard look. He lowered his bow, while cautiously observing the woman. She was examining her surroundings with slow guarded movements, still unaware of the elves' presence. He could sense fear and nervousness emanating from her. She began to turn towards them.

Both elves and woman felt their breaths catch in their throats, as three pairs of eyes darted from between one another. They stood in perfect stillness, fascinated with each other.

Legolas curiously observed the woman. She was obviously human though in the long millennia of his life, he had never seen a human like her before. She was tall and finely sculpted, which while unusual, was not unknown among her kind. She had long black hair that was braided in a foreign manner. Her nearly black eyes curved upward at the corners giving them a cat like appearance. They were set above well-defined cheekbones in an oval face. But most startling and delightful of all was her skin, which appeared smooth and darkly beautiful like polished wood.

Aduial was unprepared for the reaction that standing face to face with the woman caused. Memories thousands of years old came flooding back. Memories from a time when a small number of elves had set sail for the lands of the west, only to lose their course and arrive instead in the far south, across a great sea. Reaching Hassana, home of the anin 'dal Hassana where immortals and mortals alike resembled the woman who now stood in Eryn Lasgalen.

Ilorin was tense with shock and surprise at the sight of the two beings. She had thought the passage might have taken her to the lands on the other side of the Hassan Mountains, the Far Lands, as her people called it. But never had she heard of people such as these residing there.

Her eyes moved between them. They were exquisitely beautiful in form and figure with lithely elegant proportions. Their stances hinted at bodies capable of speed and grace that would rival the giant cats from the plains of her homeland.

Allowing her eyes to roam the length of their bodies, she noted that one was male and the other female. They were dressed in clothes of greens and browns that snugly hugged their bodies, with boots of soft brown leather, very unlike the brightly colored flowing robes and loose fitting pants favored by her people. Oddly, they glowed with an ethereal light as the sun was caught and then reflected from their pale skin. She allowed her eyes to drift back to their faces. Both had facial features as perfectly formed as their bodies, and she found them beautiful in their alien-ness. The male was particularly striking and Ilorin found it difficult to look away from the intense blue of his eyes.

"Greetings child," Aduial spoke in the Common tongue, her voice breaking the stillness of the moment.

Legolas mentally shook himself, and said, also in Common, "Greetings. What business have you in this realm?"

Ilorin frowned slightly at the two beings words. Their voices were wonderfully musical to her ears but she could not discern any meaning from their words. She shook her head slowly from side to side, hoping her lack of understanding was clear.

Both elves found themselves frowning slightly, realizing that the stranger did not understand.

Legolas began speaking hesitantly in Sindarin.

Ilorin frowned a bit deeper and shook her head again.

Legolas stopped speaking and pursed his lips. He started again, this time in Quenya.

Ilorin continued shaking her head.

Legolas' words trailed off. He tried once more, this time in Dwarvish. He was not surprised when the woman's only reply was to blink and look apologetic.

For several moments the three stood looking from one to the other in quiet frustration.

"It appears we have no common language," said Aduial in Sindarin.

"This is going to be difficult," replied Legolas.

"It is obvious we have only one option," continued Aduial, "we must take her back to the palace -"

"Aduial," interrupted Legolas, "that may not be the best course of action."

"Well we certainly can not leave her here."

Ilorin watched the two arguing in their unintelligible language, wishing she could decipher something of their language. She had concluded that they must be mages, and one or both of them had cast the passage she traveled through. Why were they angry? Was it something she had or hadn't done? What were they planning on doing to her?

Her eyes drifted down to their sides. They were both well armed with long knives, bows and arrows. With her lack of combat skills, Ilorin knew she was fairly helpless should they choose to attack.

Ilorin bit her lower lip as the two mages continued to argue. There was something vaguely familiar about them that tugged at the edges of her memory. Then she noticed their pointed ears. _Immortals!_ At that moment her mind grasped the memory that had danced just beyond her reach. She saw herself as a small child sitting on her mother's lap while she read a book of tales about the immortals of their home. Some of the stories told of with pale skin ones from a distant land.

Ilorin walked toward a nearby rock and sat massaging her temples. She decided stepping through that passage had been a mistake. No matter that she lacked prospects at home, it couldn't have been worse than being stuck in a distant unknown land with two immortal mages who couldn't speak your language even if they stopped bickering long enough to talk to you.

"We can lead her to the palace but as a precaution her hands should be tied and a blindfold shall cover her eyes," said Legolas, who was annoyed and tired of arguing with Aduial.

"I do not believe that is necessary," said Aduial. "Just look at her. What harm can an unarmed woman such as she do?"

Legolas turned his attention back toward the woman. She was sitting on a rock with her head propped up with her right hand looking toward the trees. Her face held an expression somewhere between annoyance and dejection. A cool breeze swept through the clearing causing the woman to shiver under the thin material of her loose fitting clothes.

Aduial saw pity glistening in Legolas' eyes as he watched the woman. "We should hurry back with her if we wish to reach the city by nightfall. Autumn has only yet begun but the nights are already to cool for an ill prepared mortal," said Aduial, calling attention to the way the woman shivered in the slight breeze. She knew Legolas was not a harsh elf and would respond to the woman's mortal frailties.

Legolas sighed slightly and looked at Aduial with exasperation, though he knew she was correct. "How will we convince her to leave with us?"

"Perhaps if we start walking and gesture she will follow?" suggested Aduial with some uncertainty. She hadn't considered the possibility that the woman would refuse to go with them.

"Perhaps. I think we should at least attempt to communicate our wishes..." said Legolas stepping toward the woman who was still looking at the trees opposite them. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Ilorin stiffened in surprise when she felt the hand of the male immortal on her shoulder. She turned and looked at him. His blue eyes were filled with compassion and pity. Ilorin felt herself bristle at his unuttered emotions. She did not want pity. She had received more than enough condescending pity from the few people of her class who had not backstabbed her when it was clear she could not work magic.

Legolas was startled by the vehemence of the anger and defensiveness reflected in the mortal woman's dark eyes. He quickly removed his hand from her shoulder hoping he had not violated her social customs with his touch. He took a few steps toward the thick stand of trees and gestured for her to follow. The woman's expression of anger melted away but was soon replaced with one of weariness. She looked hesitantly from him to Aduial who was silently standing a few feet away near a break in the trees.

Legolas wanted her to understand that she should follow them to safety and shelter. Given her reaction to merely being touched on the shoulder he doubted that physically guiding her would be an option. Desperate, he decided to try pantomime. He pointed up toward the sun then brought his hands together overhead to form a circle. Sinking in a great arc he hoped his movement looked like the setting sun. He then grabbed his arms and shivered as he had seen many mortals do in the cold. Next he mimed eating and lastly he pointed toward the forest taking a few steps and gestured for her to follow. He looked into the woman's eyes, hoping that she understood what he was trying to communicate.

Had the male immortal been any less beautiful or graceful, Ilorin might have smiled at his dance when she considered the oddness of her situation, stranded in an unfamiliar land with strange immortals who were forced to use dance as the only form of communication. With a small sigh Ilorin decided to go with them. She was well aware of the realities of her situation. She had chosen to step through that passage and right now they were the only beings she had encountered in this unknown land. Despite the weapons they were not overtly threatening, it was probably in her best interest to follow them. She stood, brushed off her pants, picked up her pack and walked toward the immortals.

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A Stanza from "Song of the earth" – an epic poem authored by an unknown human seer.


	4. To the Palace

A/N – This is the first chapter with significant changes from my

version of this story. I have decided to a begin clueing people

in on Ilorin's purpose etc much earler than in my last version.

BTW if anyone wants to beta that would be lovely.

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The elder ones shall fade in sorrow

lost they will be forgotten

Risen are the ones that followed

- Fragment from I Lhathron (1)

Legolas walked steadily toward the palace. The thin crescent moon overhead did little to illuminate the inky darkness of the forest. It was growing cold for the mortal, and they all needed food. They had walked a considerable distance, and the woman had been showing signs of exhaustion for hours. She was obviously unable to go any faster, and probably could not go much further without help. A short distance behind, he heard muted sounds as the woman stumbled along the path, confirming his thoughts. Thankfully she did not object when Aduial reached for her arm.

Ilorin was exhausted, cold and her feet hurt. The male was leading at a moderate pace, but they had been walking for hours. She clutched the arm of the female immortal, grateful for the extra support and the gentle encouragement she voiced. Though Ilorin could not understand the meaning of the words being whispered by the immortal, their warmth and soothing quality assuaged her discomfort. Unaccustomed to the uneven terrain, many protruding tree roots and bone weary exhaustion, Ilorin found herself stumbling frequently.

"Legolas," began Aduial, "we must slow down. The woman cannot maintain this pace for much longer."

"I am aware of that Aduial, but the hour grows late and the she will take sick from the chill," answered Legolas, "I will carry her if necessary." Mortals could be so frail at times and he did not wish to risk her life before they could question her.

"She can survive the cold, but she must not be allowed to exhaust herself beyond what is necessary. The time immediately following travel by passage is critical," said Aduial.

Legolas slowed his pace and walked next to Aduial. "That is the manner of magic by which she appeared? A passage?"

"Yes. It is an ancient magic. Believed lost to Middle-earth. "

"Explain."

"I do not know the particulars of how it was done. Only that someone very powerful and probably very ancient, used magic to create a portal from her land to ours."

"Who? Why?"

"I do not know, Legolas." Aduial was grateful for the darkness that concealed her face, otherwise Legolas might have seen the half truth in her words.

"Why is this time critical? For her?" asked Legolas.

"Many who travel by passage do not survive the journey. The passage draws upon the life force of both the caster and the traveler. It is a very dangerous magic, not to be used frivolously."

In the darkness, Legolas frowned. Who brought that woman to Middle-earth? The only being he knew with the capability were the Ishtari. But, they had left Middle-earth centuries ago. Hadn't they?

Doubt crept into his mind as he reconsidered the decision to bring her to his father. Was she merely a strange, seemingly benign human lost in the woods or someone with sinister intent? He sensed no danger from her but these were unsettled times and Aduial said someone with powerful magic cast the passage. If not the Ishtari could it have been someone with nefarious intent? Legolas pointedly ignored the very small nagging thought that she might be connected to his own longing to return to the land of his birth. He quickened his pace again, walking slightly ahead of the Aduial and the woman.

Soon the shadow of the palace loomed in the distance beyond the dense trees. In a short time they would reach the grounds and King Thranduil. Legolas frowned again. He did not relish the prospect of a meeting with his father. Since his return to the forest, he had spent little time at the palace, or even within the borders of the city. Other than one very short courtesy visit to inform the palace of his presence, Legolas had not spoken to Thranduil at all. Shifting focus to the situation at hand, he listened to the progress of the two females behind him. The soft lilt of Aduial's voice traveled on the wind as she encouraged the woman to keep moving.

Ilorin felt a mix of gratitude and apprehension when the narrow path widened and they passed through a gap in the trees to emerge on the edge of a large clearing. They walked toward an immense but low building too poorly lit for Ilorin's tired eyes to distinguish details. They had finally reached their destination. Visions of rest and food competed with fears of imprisonment and further discomfort in her mind.

They entered the palace through a small, rarely used rear door. Legolas wanted to keep news of their presence to a minimum; the guards who silently watched their progress through the wood were probably already gossiping. No doubt the story would become more elaborate with each retelling.

Still holding the female immortal's arm, Ilorin used just enough of her remaining energy to stay on her feet, and observed their surrounding. Deep red carpeting lined the center of the halls where they walked, and metal sconces held candles that brightly illuminated the polished, stone walls. The deserted halls spoke of elegance and wealth.

After many twists and turns through the halls Ilorin was hopelessly lost. Eventually the male immortal led them to another small and rather nondescript door. Inside, much to Ilorin's relief, there was another elegant setting -- a small room lit softly by candles. The male gestured toward a sizable and elaborately carved wooden chair with a large green cushioned seat. Ilorin gratefully collapsed into the chair, her eyelids falling as she sank into the soft green cushion. Ilorin's eyes slowly closed on the sight of the two immortals whispering at one another. She hoped they were not planning something devious, but at that moment she was too exhausted to care as sleep overcame her.

OXOXOXOXOXO

Middle-earth was deep within the Fourth Age, yet the elves of the Woodland Realm remained. The sea-longing had never been strong among the Silvan elves, if indeed it stirred at all. So as the Third Age drew to a close and the other elves departed for the West, they tarried in Middle-earth still deeply attached to the forest of Eryn Lasgalen. But that forest was part of the mortal world, always changing through cycles of birth and death. Their king, Thranduil, had planned to lead his people to the Undying Lands eventually. Once the burden of change became to great for them to bare.

For some inexplicable reason, the shores of Aman were closed to the elves that had remained in Middle-earth. As the decades of the Fourth Age had waxed on, the call for the sea had become so faint that the Silvan elves no longer heard it. Now, three thousand years after Elessar ascended the throne of Gondor, even the Sindar of the realm no longer felt the urge for the sea and many fruitless voyages had shown the way could not be found without it.

Thranduil sat as he did most evenings, searching an ancient book on his lap for a passage, a phrase or even a word that would explain why the Valar had left them behind. Middle-earth had not fared well under the dominion of humankind, and the elves suffered a world that had fallen into chaos. The music of the world was growing ever more dissonant -- so much so that the remaining elves would no longer listen to the world beyond their borders. Small groups isolated themselves within the last remaining forests of Middle-earth, but Thranduil knew those places would not last forever; eventually the unraveling of the music would reach even them.

It was only in the solitude of his study that Thranduil gave free reign to those thoughts. Publicly he, like his subjects, simply ignored the actualities of life. They took empty solace in maintaining the semblance of elven culture from ages past. They stood as sentinels in the mortal world. Yet, when he looked deeply at his people, Thranduil saw death. Slow death. Each year the light within each elf burned ever so slightly dimmer. Their vitality was seeping away with the march of time, lost in an abyss of unacknowledged hopelessness.

A knock on the door interrupted Thranduil's musings. "Enter," he said looking up toward the door. As he expected, his son Legolas stood in the doorway. The guards had informed Thranduil hours before that he was heading toward the palace with Aduial and a strange mortal woman in tow. Regarding his son with a look of mild irritation, Thranduil waited for him to speak. He was curious to see what situation Legolas' attraction for mortals had embroiled him in.

Legolas briefly observed the confines of his father's study as he entered the room. The simple yet elegant furnishings complimented Thranduil perfectly. The walls were carved from solid marble polished until they reflected the dancing firelight. One entire wall was filled from floor to ceiling with the oldest and rarest books in the kingdom. In deference to Elvish aesthetics another wall was constructed of tall hinged windows which opened to the forest. Leaving the door slightly ajar, Legolas walked toward his father who sat before the light of the fire. He never looked more a king. Legolas briefly wondered how the mantle of royalty could sit so uneasily on his shoulders with Thranduil as his sire.

"Father," Legolas began in a tight voice, "As I am certain the guards have informed you, I bring a most unusual mortal from the wood."

"Yes," replied Thranduil in a cold tone calculated to bring instant obedience.

Legolas felt anger begin to simmer at Thranduil's stony reply. Refusing to cower, Legolas answered in an equally cold voice. "She is not an ordinary human of Middle-earth. Her appearance is quite different from the humans of our lands and she arrived by some sort of magic passage. Unfortunately, we do not share a language so her origins and purpose are a mystery. Aduial was witness to her arrival and swears there's no ill will from the woman."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he continued to regard his son. His own irritation grew in response to Legolas' reply. He and Legolas were never close, though for many ages they had maintained a civil relationship. But that had ended with the War of the Ring. At the time , creatures of shadow were still a great threat to the forest. Yet Legolas had chosen close relationships with mortals, essentially abandoning the realm during a time of great need. Thranduil had seen his son's actions as nothing less than irresponsible and insulting to the elves of Mirkwood. Now, millennia later he stood before him once again becoming entangled in the affairs of mortals, as Thranduil definitely considered the woman to be a mortal problem.

Legolas saw the building annoyance within his father's eyes. The conversation was not going well. Taking a calming breath, he changed tactics. "Father," he began, "Since my return I have been absent from the realm and perhaps I have been remiss in my duty. I see now that has angered you greatly. For that I am truly sorry, however I think we should put those issues aside. It is a matter of great importance that this woman appeared in our forest. Perhaps the Valar are at work here. I do not doubt that the magic which brought her here is some how connected to the disappearance-"

"You are wrong!" Thranduil abruptly interrupted Legolas and stood to look his son in the eye. "That woman is a mortal problem and their affairs are no longer our concern."

Legolas looked away from his father's eyes down toward the dancing flames of the fire. He had gone too far. His father and the other elves no longer considered the realm to be part of the same world as humans. They would rather allow themselves and all things elvish to fade like tarnished silver than face the depths of their denial. He suddenly felt the walls of the palace closing in, crushing the life from his spirit. _I should never have come here. Whatever I have to say makes no difference._

"You were right in one thing," began Thranduil.

Legolas looked back to the impassive face of his father.

"I am angered by your absence from the realm. You have been remiss in your duties ever since your foolish return from the Undying Lands," Thranduil interlaced his finger behind his back and began silently pacing the stone floor.

"I am not a cruel ruler. We obviously cannot simply leave the woman at that border to fend for herself, particularly with winter approaching. She shall have accommodations within these halls. She must also learn one of our languages so that we may question her. You have until the spring."

Legolas felt his jaw drop, "I what?"

Thranduil turned on his heal to face Legolas, "You have until spring to teach her at least one of the languages of Middle-earth."

"But why must I do this?" asked Legolas incredulously.

"She will be our guest. But, we know nothing about her nor her purpose in our lands. She obviously needs a warden. Someone who will watch her every move and escort her at all times. Who better than the one responsible for bringing her to the palace? One who is admittedly remiss in his duty?"

Legolas stood speechless as Thranduil returned to his chair and calmly began reading his book again. His father had just manipulated him back into his role as Prince. A role that he not only intensely disliked and felt ill-suited to but had been absolved of upon his departure for Valinor. Momentarily, he thought to protest but looking at his Thranduil he realized refusal would mean a direct breech of authority. His father had chosen this issue to push him to a decision. Either he broke with his birth-land and his people or he obeyed this command.

Closing his mouth tightly, Legolas turned to leave.

His father's voice stopped him at the door. "And Legolas, I am holding you responsible for all her actions in our land."

Legolas bowed stiffly and closed the door behind him.

In the room adjacent to Thranduil's study, Aduial sat in a chair near the mortal woman. Her elvish ears had caught every word of the conversation between Legolas and Thranduil. As Legolas reentered the room, she schooled her feature into a mask of neutrality. Looking up at his grim expression she said, "I know this new burden weighs heavily upon you, I will shoulder this responsibility with you."

Though his features remained set in a grim expression, Legolas' nod conveyed gratitude and relief. He had returned to the forests of his birth in hopes of finding peace, believing that the well-worn paths and ancient trees would soothe him where the everlasting beauty of Aman could not. Unfortunately, the barbarity of Middle-earth in the hands of humanity and the slow decay of the Elvish race served had only served to compound the weariness of his spirit. Now he found himself entangled with his father's fading court and saddled with the responsibility of an odd woman.

Aduial's eyes misted with sadness as she watched the emotions flicker lightly across Legolas' face. She knew he did not wish to be part of courtly life. But, she had concluded that he had an important role to play in the events of the near future. He was one of the rare elves willing to acknowledge that something was deeply wrong in Middle-earth and amongst the remaining elves as well.

She had long heard the dissonance in the music though she sat silently among the others, no matter that she desired to loudly voice her doubt of the elves' chosen path of spiritual withdrawal from Middle-earth. She had watched and waited, the trust of which she was guardian stilled her tongue. Glancing at the sleeping woman in the chair near her, Aduial knew that the time to play her role was at hand.

"We should find suitable quarters for her," said Aduial gesturing toward the sleeping woman.

"Yes," said Legolas as he leaned down and scooped Ilorin into his arms.

"I know exactly where," said Aduial gesturing for Legolas to follow her. The three exited the room in search of quarters for Ilorin. Time, fate and the Valar had intertwined their paths into a delicate dance to the music of Arda.

(1) I Lhathron - one in a series of poems authored by an

unknown human seer.


	5. The Next Day

CHAPTER FIVE

In stone halls, two will see

that silence stands

between the three

- Fragment from I Lhathron

0000000000000000000000

Legolas sat in a chair, watching the woman he and Aduial had found in the woods. For two days she had not stirred from deep sleep. He had spent most of those two days within the rooms Aduial had chosen, thinking about the situation in which he now found himself. Initially, he had resented the woman in an immature fit of pique, seeing her as the reason he had to remain at court but as the first day slipped into the second and his anger faded, Legolas acknowledged he could not blame her for the current circumstances. She was not responsible for the rift between him and his father.

He leaned forward, continuing to observe her closely. Though Aduial had expressed confidence that the woman's sleep was merely a result of magic, and that she would awake in perfect health, he was becoming slightly worried. Her face was unnaturally still against the pillow where her head rested. _They look so different while sleeping, more truly themselves as if consciousness were a barrier that hid the inner self. _ The mortal need to lose consciousness for hours had always seemed a curious way to obtain rest.

Briefly, he wondered how many years she had seen. Though her face was smooth and unlined, she did not have the untouched quality of an innocent. Legolas sensed it had been many years since she left girlhood. Almost of it's own accord, his hand reached out to gingerly touch her black hair. She had masses of long but tightly spiraled curls that felt soft as new lamb's wool. His fingers left her hair and touched the smooth skin of her cheek. She was very different from any person he had seen in his long years of travel. When she abruptly stirred Legolas quickly withdrew his hand and sat back in the cushioned chair, feeling somewhat guilty for touching her without permission.

Ilorin stretched, her long body luxuriating in the satiny feel of the bed covers as the last tendrils of sleep melted from her consciousness. Confusion followed on the heels of awareness. Her sheets, in her small room in the temple dorm were definitely not satin. She sat up, blinking her eyes against the bright morning sunlight, and glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The bed where she sat was near the wall of a large circular room built of stone. Sunlight poured in through many tall latticework windows. Carved along the length of the curving walls were benches with red velvety cushions. Sconces holding unlit candles were periodically embedded in the walls. In the center of the room was a glossy round table, delicately carved from wood, with four red cushion covered chairs. They sat atop a circular rug woven in intricate patterns of red, rust and brown. There were many plants scattered around, some hanging from hooks in the walls, others sitting on wide windowsills. Across the room from the bed was an immense unlit fireplace. Ilorin was awed by the surroundings, and wondered just where she was.

"Good morning," Legolas said softly.

Hearing a smooth velvety voice, Ilorin quickly turned toward the sound. The immortal from the previous day sat in an ornate wooden chair next to the bed. Morning sunlight fell on his head and shoulders, illuminating his golden hair, making him appear magical and overwhelmingly beautiful.

She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly as the events of two days ago came rushing to the forefront of her mind. The words of the temple council, the passage, the encounter with the two immortals and the long night walk among the trees.

She wondered what she had gotten herself into. She began taking slow deep breaths to quell the panic and fear that were quickly tying her stomach into knots. Ilorin decided that no matter what situation she had blindly walked into, panic would not help the situation. Still breathing deeply, she opened her eyes. The immortal had moved his chair closer to the bed and was gazing intently at her face. A slight frown marred his features.

Ilorin felt a barrage of questions rising to her lips. "Master mage. I must ask..." her voice died away, as the immortal's frown deepened and she remembered that they did not share a common language. With a heavy sigh, Ilorin bowed her head and rubbed her temples. Tension and frustration threatened to bring tears to her eyes. _It appears I have at least one language to learn if I am ever to know why they cast the passage. _ Fighting for control, Ilorin looked back into the frowning face of the immortal. Perplexed, they simply stared at each other from either side of an invisible wall of incomprehension.

After several minutes Ilorin saw an excited gleam enter the immortal's eyes. He placed his hand on his chest and said, "Legolas." She realized that he was trying to teach her something, probably his name.

Ilorin tentatively reached out, touching the same spot on Legolas's chest, and repeated, "Le-go-las? Legolas?" A broad smile spread across the immortal's face as his name rolled easily from her tongue. She touched her own chest and said her name.

"Ee-lor-en?" said Legolas similarly reaching toward her. She nodded emphatically. The barrier of language no longer seemed so insurmountable now that they had exchanged names.

Elated with their minor breakthrough, Legolas reached for her hands as her rich, joyful laughter filled the space between them. His laughter joined hers. Ilorin's black eyes met his steady blue gaze. Their laughter diminished and she glanced down, somewhat surprised to see her hands nestled in his. They were warm, and she could feel a tensile strength beneath his soft skin.

"Good morning Legolas, I see that the mortal woman has awakened."

Ilorin startled at the sound of another voice in the room. Somewhat embarrassed, she quickly removed her hands from Legolas's grasp, and turned toward the new voice. She spied the dark haired female immortal from the previous day. Ilorin was relieved to see mirth dancing in her eyes as she stood near a large wooden door.

"Good morning, Aduial. Yes, our guest has awakened, and has informed me that her name is Ilorin," said Legolas, still smiling as he walked toward the door.

"She speaks a language of Middle-earth?" said Aduial, with a vein of hope and excitement running through her voice.

"No, but one does not necessarily need a common language to learn another's name."

Aduial nodded. "Yes, introductions are certainly a good beginning," she said, wheeling a small wooden cart loaded with covered dishes of food, clothes and toiletries into the room. Legolas eyed the cart suspiciously. The second shelf contained walking clothes. He decided to have a few words with her.

Glancing toward the door, Ilorin noticed that Legolas and the immortal lady were bickering again and paid her no mind. She threw back the bed covers, and stood to better examine her surroundings. The terra cotta tiles were cool beneath her feet as she walked toward the center of the room. The room was even more impressive than she had first ascertained. She gingerly caressed the wooden table with her fingertips. It was a skilled piece of woodworking, created from a deeply grained hardwood. The mantle over the fireplace was also of excellent workmanship, with elaborate carvings across the front. Throughout the entire room, painstaking care had been taken to create elegant, peaceful surroundings.

She could not help but compare it to her home in Hassana. Somehow these immortals had captured the quality and beauty of her wealthy family's home, and combined it with the simplicity and grace of the temple. Ilorin closed her eyes as a small wave of sadness washed over her. She missed her home, and longed for something familiar.

"It is pleasing that you have chosen to grace us with your attendance this morning, Aduial. I am certain that Ilorin will enjoy spending quiet time in her quarters with us," said Legolas in a guarded tone. He suspected that Aduial was planning to escort Ilorin around the halls and possibly the surrounding village, something he did not think was advisable. While he certainly welcomed her pledge to aid in the responsibility of looking after Ilorin, it needed to be established from the beginning that decision-making was his prerogative. Aduial had a somewhat forceful personality, and tended to maneuver herself into positions of authority. He felt Ilorin was vulnerable, and he feared Aduial, with good intentions of course, would push her into situations she was not yet prepared for.

"I know Mirkwood elves are not prone to sharing, but you couldn't possibly believe it is best to keep her sequestered in here?" said Aduial who, in her annoyance, deliberately used the name from past that hearkened to darker history of the forest and the wood elves.

"No, Aduial, but I had intended that Ilorin would have a few days rest before having to face the people in the city. Remember, she is a stranger in a strange land where she doesn't even speak the languages, "Legolas countered.

Hearing the genuine concern in his voice, Aduial softened her tone. "I understand your wishes, and it is certainly true that she is a stranger in a strange land, but consider this. If you were alone in an unfamiliar place, would you not wish to see as much of it as safely possible? To absorb as much information as possible? I would not have her believe she is in a prison."

Legolas frowned and sighed. He had to concede that Aduial did have a point, but part of him strongly rejected the idea of taking Ilorin among the other elves. The Valar only knew what their reaction to her might be. In the distant past, her newness might have caused great curiosity and welcome among the higher castes of elves. She most certainly would have inspired suspicion and avoidance among the common elves of the realm. With the further isolation of the elves and the disappearance of the sea-longing, circumstances had changed. He now feared that she would find scorn and hostility from all of the elves, regardless of caste.

"Perhaps," said Aduial, "we should ask her?"

"How?"

"I have an idea, but first there is something else that needs to be said."

Ilorin realized that the room had grown quiet. Turning toward the arched doorway, she saw that both the immortals were looking at her, then the lady walked over to the table.

A gently smile graced Adduial's features. She bowed and touched her hand to her chest, repeating her name.

Ilorin did likewise with a small smile.

"I know you do not understand me," said Adduial, "but I want to extend a welcome and wish you well in all your travels through Middle-earth, young one."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ilorin peered through the arched doorway of her room into the hallway beyond. At the bottom of a short flight of stone stairs stood Legolas and Aduial, gesturing for her to follow them. Lifting the hem of the simple black dress Aduial had given her, Ilorin cautiously descended the stairs. The hallway was wide and surprisingly airy, given that it was largely below ground level. Windows near the ceiling and strategically placed mirrors illuminated the space with bright sunlight. Steeling her resolve, Ilorin quickened her pace and joined the two immortals. Aduial smiled warmly and linked her arm with Ilorin's. The tour had begun.

Several hours later Ilorin was awed and impressed (though hopelessly disoriented) by the settlement of the immortals. The stone halls had been only the beginning of what Aduial and Legolas had shown her. After an hour or so of walking the polished stone halls, they had ascended another flight of stairs to a heavy door that led outside. There again, Ilorin saw the trees of the forest and found herself nearly overwhelmed by their immense overhanging branches. As they walked the winding paths through the trees, Ilorin's fingers itched for the silver flute in her pack. She wanted to sit for a few hours among them and play until the melody of the forest sang through her music. She did that in every new place she encountered. It was her way of knowing the spirit of the environment, playing the "Music Unheard" as she called it.

Along the paths they came upon shops, businesses, parks and gardens. Ilorin saw many of the places she would expect to see in a thriving village, and even a few things she did not expect, such as dwellings built among the limbs of trees. Curiously, at least to Ilorin, they did not encounter many people. The few they did see bowed to Legolas and spoke a few words of their language while unabashedly staring at Ilorin. They all exhibited shock, curiosity, disgust or some mixture thereof. Ilorin generally nodded while standing stood a small distance from the immortals that greeted Legolas and Aduial. Mildly insulted by their reactions, she decided it was best to distance herself and determine later how to engage immortals other than Legolas and Aduial.

Eventually they came upon a large stone building set within a clearing. The building was circular in shape with tall windows and many small balconies. The surrounding grounds were beautifully manicured gardens of shrubs, fragrant flowers and fountains. A wide path lined with pink, flowered trees lead from the edge of the clearing to the tall double doors of the building.

"I think you will enjoy this building Ilorin," smiled Aduial. Ilorin gave a half smile in response still unable to comprehend the language Aduial had been chattering in during most of the tour.

"She does not understand you, Aduial. Yet still you chatter on like a forest bird," said Legolas somewhat amused at Aduial's continuous stream of conversation.

"Well," began Aduial, "how do you expect the poor woman to learn a language if we do not speak to her?" Though both elves chose not to mention it, the fact that the other inhabitants of the village largely avoided Ilorin had disappointed them. Not that either elf was surprised - even after the cleansing of the forest, the elves of Eryn Lasgalen had never gotten over their suspicion of strangers. Human visitors, a rarity even in better times, had always roused distrust.

They continued up the path to the doors of the building. Legolas opened them and gestured with a small bow for Ilorin to enter. Nodding her thank-you, she stepped across the threshold. Inside her eyes widened with delight. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books of every imaginable size, shape and color. To her left, a wrought iron staircase spiraled up to the narrow walkway that formed the second level of the library. In the center of the room, several large tables surrounded by graceful wooden chairs stood on black tiled floors. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating the private nooks created by artfully arranged bookcases.

Ilorin stepped forward to the nearest shelf and carefully removed a green leather bound book. She reverently flipped through the thick vellum pages. They were covered in scrip unintelligible to her. Gingerly replacing the weighty volume, she turned back toward the two elves. A grateful smile graced her features. Ilorin had an intense love of books and learning. The opportunity to study in one of the great libraries of Hassana at the Temple Imani had weighed heavily in her decision to petition for the novitiate

Legolas and Aduial stood by the door, watching Ilorin's reaction. She radiated an almost childish delight at the sight of the library. Both elves found themselves smiling warmly at her. Legolas felt a soft place forming in his heart. Before he left for Valinor, such love of books had been uncommon among humans, even those of the historically learned higher classes. After his return, he had found nearly all human places of learning in a state of sad neglect and disrepair centuries in the making. It was comforting to know that somewhere in Arda, societies of humans that valued knowledge and learning still existed.

"It is my opinion that the library is an excellent location for Ilorin's language lessons," said Legolas.

"I agree," smiled Aduial.

"So, this is the human who now inhabits our realm."

Ilorin, Legolas and Aduial turned toward the new voice. Walking silently down the spiral staircase was Henohith, King Thranduil's head advisor. He had stood unnoticed near the top stair, observing the trio below. He held no appreciation for humanity, and had been dismayed to learn that one of them was actually allowed in their forest. He was highly suspicious of humans in general, and one that arrived by foreign magic was particularly untrustworthy in his estimation.

"Yes Henohith, she is," said Aduial with narrowing eyes. She did not like him. Over many long years in Thranduil's realm, they usually found themselves on opposite sides of issues important to the king.

Ilorin immediately sensed the tension between Aduial and the new immortal. She observed him closely. He was dressed in rich silken robes of greens and browns. Long, silky dark hair, braided in a fashion similar to Legolas's, hung down his back. His demeanor spoke of one accustomed to wielding power and influence. His eyes, grey as an overcast sky, thoroughly assessed her. As he looked away dismissively, it was obvious to Ilorin that he found her lacking.

"Does she have a name?" The slight sneer in his voice was evident to all.

Turning toward Ilorin, Aduial, in direct defiance of custom, said, "Ilorin, I present to you Henohith, advisor to King Thranduil."

For the briefest of moments, Ilorin thought she saw the new immortal's placid face wrinkle with anger. She found herself cursing the language barrier once more. She did not know what Aduial had said, but from the new immortal's reaction it had been some kind of insult. She decided that he was not to be trusted. During her years in the social circles of the Mage class, she had encountered many of the type she suspected he was. They thought nothing for those whom they considered either beneath them or useless in their personal plots and intrigues.

If Ilorin could have read the deep places of his heart, she would have found Henohith's disdain and animosity was not exclusively targeted at her, but at all humanity. Those strong emotions were fueled by the pain and frustration of hopelessness. He, like the remaining elves, knew the elves were adrift in the crumbling lands of Middle-earth, their spirits slowly fading.

Henohith glared at Aduial. He was an elf of high caste, so Ilorin, a mere human, should have been presented to him. His gaze told her that he would not forget the slight she had just delivered him. "King Thranduil bid me to collect her. He wishes an audience."

He hand closed around Ilorin's wrist and he began tugging her in the direction of the door. Outraged, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and took a few steps backwards. Her black eyes smoldered with anger and more than a small amount of fear.

"I am not going anywhere with you!" Ilorin said in her native tongue. Though he did not understand her harsh human language, Henohith's grey eyes darkened like storm clouds at her obvious defiance. He moved toward her determined to enforce his will. Swiftly Legolas stepped in the narrowing space between them. The situation was rapidly deteriorating, and he would not allow Henohith to injure Ilorin or engage in behavior unbecoming of an elf.

"Henohith," began Legolas using a tone that subtly but clearly denoted his rank, "lead us to my father." Henohith's face once again became a placid mask of elvish formality. Bowing to Legolas, he pivoted on his heel and began walking toward the double doors of the library. Legolas turned to face Ilorin. He saw the light of anger fading from her eyes, only to be replaced with worry and hesitancy. Seeking to reassure her, he placed his right hand gently on her left shoulder and gestured toward the doors.

"Ilorin," he said in a gentle tone, "will you please come with us?" The compassion in Legolas' words, even without meaning, engendered a sense of trust within her. She did not believe he would lead her to harm. Ilorin nodded slowly. At her acquiescence, Legolas smiled warmly. His hand slid gracefully from her shoulder to the small of her back where he applied just enough pressure to guide, but not force. All four left the library and walked the winding paths to see Thranduil.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

King Thranduil stood near one of the large second story windows of his informal throne room. He was watching the approach of his advisor, his son, Aduial and the mortal woman. His eyes focused on the woman, remembering his last exchange with Legolas. With two days to mull over their meeting, he had concluded that his words were unduly harsh. He still believed that he son had been remiss in the duties of his station, but as King, it was his duty to lead by example and not allow his emotional involvement to over take his reason. As the older and wiser of the two, his loss of temper was inexcusable. Though he did not regret using the situation with the woman to bring Legolas back to his responsibilities, Thranduil had decided to make amends toward his son.

As they walked, Ilorin continued to feel frustration at their inability to communicate. She wanted to know where Henohith - she believed that was his name - was leading them. She felt a certain degree of unease at following him anywhere. His previous actions made her bristle uncomfortably in his presence, and the tension that still hung in the air did not help her quickly fraying nerves.

They entered a two-story stone building set partially among the trees. The interior was elegantly decorated in purple with silver accents. To Ilorin, it appeared to be a waiting room, with many comfortable looking chairs and couches. Tired after their long tour, she looked longingly at those chairs as they climbed a wide stone stairway to a landing with a large wooden door. Henohith knocked and opened the door for the trio to enter. Inside was another opulent yet elegant room. Ilorin stood by the door, slowly taking in the surroundings. Overhead there was a high vaulted ceiling, painted with scenes of lands and immortals unknown to her. There were large windows through which late afternoon sunlight streamed. Tapestries of superb detail hung on the walls, and thick purple rugs lay on the slate tile floors.

Her eyes fell upon a low dais where, straight and tall, sat another immortal. He was dressed in robes of green with intricately stitched leaves of gold thread. Long blond hair hung past his shoulders framing a face untouched by age, but which still wore a mask of maturity and wisdom. It was obvious to Ilorin, even had she not seen the small circlet of gold glittering upon his head, that he was their ruler. His entire being emanated power and command. But it was his eyes that ensnared Ilorin. In their bright blue depths swirled the pain, joy, triumph and experiences of millennia. Lost in his gaze, Ilorin barely noticed when Legolas took her elbow and walked her forward toward Thranduil's throne.

"King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen, I present to you Ilorin," said Legolas in a tone of stiff formality. Ilorin once again cursed their language barrier as she heard Legolas' voice. She assumed that he was presenting her to their ruler. Surprised, she found herself bowing in a low curtsy to him. It had been long years since she bowed to anyone. In Hassana, her family was the highest of the Mage class. As a symbol of their status, no adult of their name ever bowed to anyone.

"Ilorin," said Thranduil as he stood and stepped off the dais. He began walking around Ilorin in a slow circle. She was dressed in a simple black sleeveless dress and collarless, long-sleeved white shirt. Her hair fell in a thick braid down her back. Errant spirals and crinkly curls had escaped and framed her brown face. Though tall and finely made like the Númenorians, she otherwise did not otherwise resemble any human he had seen. Thranduil circled to face her. With his right hand, he gently but firmly held her chin, tilting her face from side to side. _She is definitely human, though there is something odd about her._

Ilorin was growing steadily irritated by Thranduil's appraisal_. He behaves as if I am cattle._ When he held her face, her eyes narrowed with anger. It was only the knowledge that she was completely at his mercy that kept her from wrenching her head away from him. Upon noticing her obvious anger, Thranduil smiled slightly, pleased that though she had some backbone, she also possessed enough wisdom to submit when necessary. He abruptly dropped his hand, and turned toward Legolas.

"She seems harmless enough," said Thranduil dismissively. "She speaks no language that we understand?"

"No."

Thranduil's gaze turned back to Ilorin as he continued, "Pity that. I believe she would have quite a few interesting things to say. I want her speaking with us as soon as possible. We need to question her about where she's from and what her purpose here may be." Once again he turned from Ilorin and walked back toward his throne to sit. "Until then, my previous orders remain in place. She may be given free rein but I want her escorted at all times. Aduial, please see our guest back to her quarters."

Aduial bowed and motioned for Ilorin to follow her out the door. Ilorin bowed slightly, and quickly followed behind Aduial, relieved to be escaping Thranduil's scrutiny. Aduial was also grateful to be leaving the presence of the king. She held knowledge that, by law, should be shared with Thranduil, but the weight of her guardianship forbade such disclosure even to her liege. She feared he might detect her guilt.

Legolas also bowed and turned to leave, looking to escape the tension of the throne room. "A word with you Legolas," commanded Thranduil. Legolas paused mid stride. A small grimace danced across his face before the familiar expression of neutrality replaced it. He turned toward his father once more.

"Yes father."

"I would speak to you of our last meeting," Thranduil paused, "though there is no doubt to the rightness of my charges against your actions regarding the duties of your title, I was overzealous in the strength and emotionality of my reactions." He stepped down from the dais and approached Legolas as he spoke. "Legolas, we cannot continue the animosity that stands between us. In these troubled times, " he paused again to gauge Legolas's reaction to his subtle reference to the discord in Middle-earth, "it serves neither the realm, our people nor ourselves to exist in a state of constant dissension."

Legolas' shoulders sagged imperceptibly. His father was correct; dissent would not serve anyone or anything. He had not returned to replay old conflicts in the land of his birth. He could not allow arguments with his father to distract him from the slow decay of Middle-earth or his personal quest for peace. Yet, he chafed at blind obedience. Legolas looked directly into his father's blue eyes, so similar to his own and said, "She is the leash you would tie around my neck, harnessing me to a tittle we mutually agreed was dissolved." His tone was deadly calm.

Thranduil pursed his lips before speaking, judging how best to proceed. It was true that when Legolas left for Valinor, they agreed that he would no longer carry the tittle of Prince. But now he was back, and circumstances were different. He did not believe it was by chance that the Valar allowed him to return. There was no doubt that his son was there serve their people once again, even if he needed incentive. "Yes," he said simply, "she is that. But not without reason.

"Legolas, I have spent many long millennia on the throne in this forest. There have been uncountable occasions when I deeply resented the weight of that responsibility and duty, especially in the beginning. But eventually, I came to realize that, even though we are individuals, we are also beings of the world and thus instruments of the Valar. Often, this means honor and duty bind us to choices we would not otherwise make. Circumstances, set into motion in ages past, rule our lives just as our decisions and our actions now will rule the future.

"Son, sometimes the Valar lead us where we would not go. Their will is strong; fight if you must, but remember, they make choices from a plan that we know not. Choose wisely from the paths set before you." Legolas stood silently before his father, his mask of neutrality firmly in place, though behind it swirled an aggregation of complex emotions. Anger and outrage foremost among them. How dare Thranduil speak to him of responsibility and duty? He had risked his life and sullied his very soul for his people.

"Duty? Responsibility? Was it not enough to have tasted the temptation of the Middle-earth's greatest evil and resist it? To face the largest army of evil the Dark Lord Sauron had ever amassed and aid in its defeat while most other of our kind fled the shores or hid it the deep forests?

I know it has been millennia since my time with the Fellowship. But I have not the will to be who you wish. I lost the part of my being when I stared into the flames of a balrog. Or perhaps when I stood with the Rohirrim against a sea of uruk-hai. The intensity of such evil very much resembles that of a crucible. When it is over, much of your previous self no longer remains and the taint of evil, no matter how small, is forever a part of your existence."

Thranduil stared hard at Legolas. "You are a Prince of your people. The Valar made it so. That is your path…forever." He sighed and beckoned his son to exit. As the door closed softly behind Legolas, he walked back to the window near his throne. A few moments later he saw his son striding purposefully toward the forest, his movements tense_. I have said all that can be said to Legolas. He shall either accept his place and his charge, or leave the realm._ With that thought, Thranduil dismissed that problem from the forefront of his mind and turned his thought to the woman Ilorin. He had much to research concerning her appearance.

That night, and many nights after, he spent hours searching for references to Ilorin's arrival and what it could mean for his people. He did not believe that it was chance that brought her to his forest. If at all possible, he was going to discover why.

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Once he was deep within the forest, Legolas began to run. Weaving between the trees, feeling the wind caress his face as he raced away from the city. Eventually he came to a long-abandoned target field. He had been using that field to practice since his return to the forest. He walked over to a hollowed-out tree near the edge of the field and removed a spare bow and many quivers of arrows. He than began to loose arrows with deadly speed and accuracy amongst the targets set at the other end of the field.

Hours later the sun had finished her journey across the sky and the moon was rising. Legolas walked across the field and began gathering the arrows. The hours of focused practice had brought a meditative stillness to his mind. He now felt ready to understand the choices he had made.

He would accept the charge of the woman, though not because his father would force him. It was only because his soul told him that was the path he must take. He sighed deeply. There had been a time when he refused to abide by the whispers of his heart and soul. For centuries during his youth, he had played the role of Prince quite effectively, standing at his father's side as his second-in-command. However, maintaining that role meant disassociating himself from the inner voice of his soul. A voice that insistently whispered that he was neither complete nor happy in his life. As an elf, he could not exist in such a state of separation and remain alive.

When the opportunity to become a member of the Fellowship of the Ring presented itself, he had listened to his soul and joined the quest. After Sauron had been destroyed, he knew he could never go back to his empty existence as Prince of Mirkwood. That had meant abdicating his title and creating a deep rift between himself and his father.

Legolas felt his thoughts turning toward his centuries in Valinor. To live amongst the Valar was to be touched by unimaginable grace. The elves of Middle-earth found undying joy in Aman, but not Legolas.

Each year, he found his thoughts turning east with increasing frequency. There was a constant restlessness within him that overshadowed the beauty of the Undying Lands. Eventually, even the light of the Valar was not enough to keep his mind and soul in the West. Middle-earth called to him and he answered, though the chaos and decay he witnessed upon his return had served only to further burden his soul. He criss-crossed the land, traveling in secret, wondering why the Valar, who created Middle-earth with such love and care, could abandon it so thoroughly.

He now concluded that it was part of the Valar's plan that he return to Middle-earth in its time of need. Of all the elves in Valinor, he was the only one who continued to exhibit attachment to the mortal lands and their people. That must be why they allowed him to return. With Ilorin's arrival, he knew she was somehow important to the circumstances they had set in motion. His task, for the foreseeable future, was to understand what part he had been chosen to play. It appears the Valar would not have me done with Middle-earth, the forest or this title. So be it. But, this time I will do this my way.

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I Lhathron - one in a series of poems authored by an

unknown human seer.


End file.
